


Or to Return from Following

by fourth_rose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, First Time, written before book 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 04:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5652988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourth_rose/pseuds/fourth_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the summer after the events of "Half Blood Prince", and Draco is on the run, with just one person left to turn to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Or to Return from Following

**Author's Note:**

> Written before the publication of "Deathly Hallows", and therefore not compliant with book 7 canon.
> 
> Yes, the title is a bible quote (Rut 1,16). If anyone should find it inappropriate to use a bible quote for a smutty fic – hey, have you *read* some parts of the bible? ;-)

_Meet me outside the wards at the old place, if you can. Don't tell anyone._  
  
Pansy stares at the words on the scrap of parchment that an unfamiliar owl has just delivered to her open bedroom window, and her heart skips a beat. The note has been hastily scribbled, and the ink is smeared, but there's no way she wouldn't recognize the handwriting. For a moment, it's hard to breathe; all she can think is _Thank God, he's alive._  
  


+++

  
  
Draco doesn't think he has ever been this tired in his entire life. A part of him feels that if he would only be allowed to sleep for a whole night once, the weeks since Dumbledore's death will turn out to be nothing but a gruesome nightmare when he wakes up. Unfortunately, all he needs to remind him that they weren't is a look at Snape's scowling face.  
  
"You are sure we can trust her?" Snape still doesn't seem happy with his suggestion that they turn to Pansy Parkinson for help.  
  
"If I still can trust anyone, it's Pansy," Draco replies; he doesn't contemplate the consequences in case he has misjudged her. He's past caring; at this point, Pansy might even do him a favour if she whipped out her wand and cursed him into oblivion the moment she sees him. At least it would be over then.  
  
"I don't think she'll come; it's past midnight already." Snape hasn't even finished the sentence when they see her approaching, a faint glow from her wand illuminating her figure, which is wrapped in a dark cloak with the hood pulled over her head. She pauses when she notices them; a mere second later, Draco finds himself wrapped up in an embrace that knocks the breath out of him. She whispers, "God, I've been so _worried_!" in his ear before Snape makes her pull back with a sharp, "Miss Parkinson!"  
  
Pansy turns to face him, and it's clear from the way her eyes widen that she didn't even recognize him before. "Professor Snape!"  
  
"I'm hardly your teacher anymore," Snape replies dryly. "I brought Mr Malfoy here because we're in need of assistance, and he thinks you'd be willing to provide it."  
  
Pansy answers without hesitation. "I'll do anything to help you." She's looking not at Snape, but at Draco when she says it, and the feeling of relief leaves him light-headed for a moment.  
  
"Very well." Snape's expression remains grim. "I need to leave Mr Malfoy somewhere safe until the day after tomorrow. I should be back at sunrise to take him with me then. I think I need not tell you that his life depends upon your secrecy."  
  
Pansy throws a quick glance at Draco. "You suggested the willow?"  
  
Draco nods. "I couldn't think of a better place, that's why I asked you to meet us here. Do you still have the wards up?"  
  
They're standing right next to the huge weeping willow that was Pansy's childhood refuge; to the best of his knowledge, she never told anyone but him about it. The tree is growing right outside the perimeter of the wards around the Parkinson estate. The branches are hanging down to the ground, forming a perfect place for hiding inside; a little river is flowing right underneath them, providing Pansy's hiding-place with running water.  
  
It's every child's idea of paradise, especially since Pansy and Draco spent many summer days weaving wards, silencing spells, and other kinds of protective magic into the branches to keep the place a secret from everyone. Although it seems to have happened in another lifetime, he remembers her glowing pride when she managed to make it unplottable in the summer before they went to Hogwarts, and how they sat inside their shelter, smugly imagining all those unfortunate children who spent their lives among Muggles and were pestered with restrictions of underage magic by the fools at the Ministry.  
  
Pansy smiles. "I didn't change anything. You could have gone in already, the wards are still keyed to you."  
  
Draco feels a wave of gratitude wash over him at the simple reassurance that some part of his life is still as it was before everything fell to pieces around him. He has no doubts that there's nothing he has to offer Pansy anymore, and even if he didn't believe that she'd openly turn against him, he wasn't sure how much of a risk she'd still be willing to take for him.  
  
Now that he's actually going to be safe for the first time in weeks, exhaustion is taking its toll; through a haze of sudden dizziness, Draco barely notices Snape Disapparating with a crack. Pansy takes his hand and all but drags him to the willow, opening the curtain of branches with a wave of her wand and closing it behind them once they passed through.  
  
"I can't stay long, but I'll be back tomorrow." Pansy takes off her cloak and spreads it on the soft grass at their feet. "I'll send Ketty with food and blankets. Don't worry," she cuts off Draco's protest before he can even say anything, "she's my personal house elf, and she won't tell anyone. Is there anything else you need?"  
  
"Another robe, if you can manage to smuggle one out." Draco is still wearing his school robe, although it's hardly more than dirty rags by now; another week like that, and it will probably fall apart.  
  
Pansy nods briskly. "I'll see what I can do. Now go to sleep, you look horrible." She embraces him again, and in spite of her business-like demeanour, he can tell by the way she's clinging to him how agitated she is. It's the first friendly touch in weeks, and he can't help giving in to it and hugging her back.  
  
Finally, she's the one to let go. She brushes a quick kiss on his cheek, whispering, "Sleep well, you're safe now", and is gone. Draco all but collapses where he stands; he's so tired that he barely manages to pull her cloak over him. Breathing in the familiar smell of her, he's asleep only seconds later.  
  


+++

  
  
Pansy doesn’t allow herself to think while she sneaks back into her room. There are things to do; once she’s done everything she can for Draco, there will be time enough for nerves.  
  
Ketty appears immediately when Pansy calls for her. The house-elf’s huge yellow eyes are blinking in the light, as if she’d been fast asleep a moment before, but she doesn’t say anything other than, "Miss Pansy is having need of Ketty?“  
  
"Ketty, listen to me.“ Pansy fixes her elf with a stern glare. "It’s very important that you don’t tell anyone about the things I’m going to say now, do you understand me? Absolutely no one, especially not my parents!“  
  
Immediately, tears are welling up in the huge eyes. "Miss Pansy is thinking that Ketty would betray her?“  
  
"No, of course not," Pansy assures her quickly before the elf actually bursts into tears. "I just need you to understand how important this is. Do you remember Draco Malfoy?"  
  
Ketty nods empathically. "Ketty is remembering him well. He has been Miss Pansy's best friend, but Master Parkinson isn't liking him anymore."  
  
"That doesn't matter," Pansy says curtly, "he is _still_ my friend. Ketty, you remember my hide-out under the weeping willow? You always brought me food when I was there, and the wards will let you through."  
  
"Oh, Ketty is remembering! Miss Pansy was..."  
  
"Shut up and listen. I've hidden Draco there, but I need you to bring him something to eat. Enough for two days and some stuff he can easily take with him for later, do you understand?"  
  
The elf's big eyes have widened even more at this, but she nods. "Ketty will go to the kitchen at once; no one is seeing her at this hour."  
  
"Very good. Also, see if you can get him one of my father's old robes - something Dad won't miss, do you understand? A blanket might not hurt, either."  
  
Ketty has paled at the demand that she filch her master's clothing, but she nods bravely. "Ketty is understanding everything. Is Miss Pansy needing anything else?"  
  
"No. Go quickly, make sure nobody notices you, and never speak about any of this!"  
  
When the elf has Disapparated, Pansy slumps down on her bed; now that she no longer needs to act, tonight's events are catching up with her, and she's shaking all over. She's been worried sick about Draco ever since he first mentioned the Dark Lord's task for him at the beginning of sixth year, and the weeks since Dumbledore's death have been a living nightmare. Her best friend was out there, living like a hunted animal, forced to hide from both warring fractions, because the megalomaniac who wasn't able to kill a boy and an old man had sent him out to do his dirty work for him.  
  
Whenever Pansy's thoughts reached that point during the last weeks, she felt a surge of loathing for the Dark Lord that surprised herself in its intensity, but it's nothing compared to the blinding hatred that's burning inside her now. She has once accepted the idea of following him because Draco had done it, too, but since the beginning of summer, it has become clear to her that it was never the Dark Lord who had her loyalty – it has always been Draco. Now that she can no longer be loyal to both of them, she knows perfectly well whose side she's on. Whoever harms Draco is her enemy – it's as simple as that.  
  
She's still not over the initial shock of realizing how deathly exhausted he looked, his greyish face haggard with sharp lines between his eyebrows and in the corners of his mouth, dark circles like bruises under his eyes, his hair matted and in disarray. She could do nothing but watch helplessly when he struggled with his secret task during the school year, but now he's hers to take care of. She remembers how he held on to her when she embraced him – it told her more clearly than anything he could have said how desperate he is.  
  
Pansy takes a deep breath, willing her racing heartbeat to slow down. She mustn't fall apart now; she'll need a clear head tomorrow.  
  


+++

  
  
It's almost noon when Draco is woken by the growling of his stomach. Opening his eyes, he notices a huge basket that someone – Pansy's house elf, obviously – has placed next to him. There's a bundle of cloth on top, and when Draco unfolds it, it turns out to be a blanket, wrapped around a robe that must once have belonged to Pansy's father. Underneath, the basket is full of food.  
  
With a feeling of profound relief, Draco reaches for a sandwich and reminds himself to eat slowly because he will make himself sick otherwise. During the past weeks, he's come to realize that he never knew the true meaning of the word 'hunger' before, just as he had never before experienced real exhaustion. It was a realization he could happily have done without, but that goes for many things he's had to learn since the night he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts.  
  
Draco resolutely pushes the thought away. He's become very good at it; after that night, he has trained himself not to think about Dumbledore, Fenrir Greyback, or anything else concerning the Dark Lord's assignment. He has no way to change what's happened and very little control over what's happening to him now, so it's better to focus his energy on the tasks at hand – staying hidden, escaping Voldemort's wrath and making sure Dumbledore's avenging angels don't get their hands on Snape.  
  
Draco shakes his head vigorously and reaches for another sandwich. Pansy, bless her, seems to have provided him with enough food for a week, and he experiences another moment of uncharacteristic gratitude. It has never been in his nature to be thankful for the things others did for him because he always felt that they were just giving him his due, but he's found out how painfully wrong he was in those weeks when even a hot meal, a clean robe or a full night's sleep were too much to ask for.  
  
Three sandwiches and half a bottle of pumpkin juice later, Draco reluctantly puts the basket aside and eyes the robe warily. That's what he's come to, then, wearing hand-me-downs like a bloody Weasley. Yet, there's nothing for it – his own clothes are not only falling apart, but also stiff with dirt that no _Scourgify_ in the word can get rid of anymore. He wonders how Pansy could bring herself to embrace him the night before – he must be reeking by now.  
  
Blushing at the thought, Draco undresses hastily, bundling up his clothes and flinging them away as far as possible. It's a warm day, and after a moment's hesitation, he slips into the little river next to the tree where it's flowing underneath the willow's branches. The water is cold, but when he finally climbs out with blue lips and clattering teeth, he feels moderately clean for the first time in weeks. Mr Parkinson's robe is too big for him, yet so short that it barely reaches his ankles when he stands, but it will have to do.  
  
He's still buttoning up the robe when Pansy steps through the branches. She rushes over to hug him again, and when she steps back and eyes him critically, her face brightens. "You look much better today. Did you sleep well?"  
  
"Better than I have in weeks," he replies truthfully, "I only woke up half an hour ago. Thanks for the food and the robes, by the way." Pansy seems taken aback, and he can't blame her; he's never been one to go around thanking people. She recovers quickly, though; she sits down at the spot where she always used to sit when they were children, with her back against the willow's trunk and her legs crossed, and pats the ground beside her invitingly. He feels a bit nostalgic when he sits down next to her; for a moment it seems to him that he could almost pretend they were still children who had nothing to fear but their nannies finding them, and he smiles at the thought.  
  
Pansy's next words brutally shatter the illusion. "Can you tell me what has happened?"  
  
He has been dreading the questions she's bound to ask, and he's not sure she will understand the only answer he can give her. He doesn't look at her when he slowly shakes his head. "Pansy, I can't tell you anything. I wouldn't even have come here if I could have found another way – you know far too much already."  
  
It's quiet for a while before she asks softly, "May I at least know why you won't tell me?"  
  
"Please don't think I don't trust you," he says quickly. "I do, but that's even more reason to make sure you don't know anything. Everything I could tell you would put you in even more danger than you're in already just for being – my friend, and I won't allow that to happen."  
  
She places a hand on his arm, forcing him to finally meet her eyes. "Draco, I'm neither helpless nor stupid, and I don't need anyone to protect me."  
  
He smiles without humour. "You know, a few months ago, I'd have said the same thing about myself, and look where I am now." He didn't mean to sound so bitter, but it's too late already.  
  
Pansy is looking at him as if she were trying to read the answers to her questions in his face. "Is that why you hardly ever spoke to me since last autumn?"  
  
Draco nods glumly. "Ever since I began to understand how he – what he's really like. What it really means to follow him. I didn't – I couldn't drag you into this."  
  
She shakes her head. "I thought you were getting tired of me."  
  
"Never," he replies firmly, and he means it; Pansy has been a constant in his life ever since they were both toddlers, and before Dumbledore's death, he was sure this would never change. It hasn't even occurred to him until now that his attempts to keep her out of harm's way might look like rejection to her.  
  
Pansy's hand is still on his arm, but now she's pushing the sleeve of his robe up over his elbow. Draco reaches out to stop her, but she's too quick, and before his hand closes around hers, she's already uncovered the smooth, unmarred skin on the inside of his forearm.  
  
Her eyes grow wide. "You didn't..."  
  
He shakes his head, his expression grim. "You don't get Marked just for swearing loyalty to him; you have to prove your worthiness first, and you know how _that_ turned out."  
  
"Are you still going to..."  
  
"Snape is convinced he's planning to kill me as soon as he finds me, so I guess the point is moot."  
  
Pansy has paled at his words; her grip on his arm tightens almost painfully. "He never deserved your loyalty in the first place." Despite the fear in her eyes, her voice is firm. "And he's not going to get you, do you hear me?"  
  
Before Draco can answer, her lips are on his, effectively cutting off everything he was about to say. Draco freezes; this isn't one of the friendly pecks she used to give him on a daily basis back at school, but a hungry, open-mouthed kiss, fierce and demanding. Her hands are suddenly in his hair, cupping the back of his head and holding him in place.  
  
His first impulse is to push her away. It has been a long time since they've kissed like that, and he stopped doing it for a reason that is even more valid now than it was during sixth year. His arms come up, but it seems his body has a mind of its own; instead of putting some distance between them, he's pulling her closer before he has even noticed what he's doing.  
  
Then Pansy starts sucking at his lower lip, and suddenly all his reasons for not kissing her back are silenced by the desperate longing for the familiar taste of her mouth. Only when he pushes his tongue past her lips and rather feels than hears the soft sigh at the back of her throat, he realizes how much he has missed this, has missed tasting, smelling, _feeling_ her, and from the way she's clinging to him, kissing hard enough to bruise, it's obvious that she has missed it too.  
  
Then she's in his lap, her body so close to his that he feels her heartbeat next to his own, the softness of her breasts pressed against his chest, her hip against his groin, and there's no way she could not be aware of his reaction to her. Draco suddenly remembers the last time she was sitting in his lap like that – it was in the spring of their fifth year, shortly after that Umbridge woman had sacked Dumbledore. They were out in Hogsmeade, he and Pansy and the other members of the infamous Inquisitorial Squad, celebrating the replacing of their worst enemy with a stupid Ministry goon who was working right into the hands of the Dark Lord's followers, and who had proved the perfect tool to restore Slytherin house to its rightful place after being treated like dirt for decades.  
  
They were all more than a little drunk, safe in the knowledge that it would have no consequences if they were caught at it, and he first thought he was imagining things when he felt Pansy's hand fumbling with the top button of his trousers. Before he could wrap his mind around the idea that he was definitely awake and this could therefore not be a particularly vivid wet dream, she had the zipper down, and then her hand was on his skin, pushing past the waistband of his boxers and boldly reaching lower. He'd already been half-hard before, what with her squirming in his lap, but now a burning heat was welling up in his nether regions as her fingers closed around his growing erection.  
  
He risked a glance around in the dim light of the pub, and when it was obvious that Pansy's body was effectively shielding what she was doing from everyone else's gazes, he closed his eyes, let his head fall in the crook of her shoulder, and gave in to the feeling of her hand on his cock. She wasn't the first girl to touch him there, and he'd been with more experienced partners, but somehow her inexpert strokes were more arousing than the practised touches from the women in those... establishments to which he'd been allowed to accompany his father on occasion since he'd turned fifteen.  
  
It felt so deliciously naughty, sitting there right among their classmates, getting the hand job of his life from the girl who featured prominently in his fantasies whenever his own hands found their way down there. He clenched his teeth to keep himself from making a sound when he finally came all over her hand in a breathtaking rush of sensation, and when he raised his head to meet her eyes afterwards, she looked at him like the cat who ate the canary and kissed the tip of his nose.  
  
He still considers it the most intimate thing he's ever done with anyone, and it's blindingly obvious that the immediate future is holding a repeat performance of some kind if he doesn't stop her right now.  
  
"Pansy, wait." It takes all of his willpower to pull back; his voice is embarrassingly breathless when he continues, "We mustn't – you know we shouldn't go any further."  
  
For a moment, she stares at him with utter bewilderment, and it's all he can do not to start kissing her again at the sight of her swollen lips and flushed cheeks, but then she nods. "You're right, I have to be back in a few minutes before Mum misses me."  
  
She leans closer once more, but this time it's to whisper in his ear. "But I'll come again tonight, and I'll tell everyone at dinner that I have a horrible headache and will go to bed early. They always leave me alone when I say that." Her teeth playfully nip his earlobe, and Draco can't help the jolt of arousal that's going through his body. "That means that tonight... I won't have to leave."  
  
Before he can think of an answer, she has crawled off his lap, brushed another quick kiss on his cheek, and is gone. When the branches of the willow have closed behind her, Draco buries his head in his hands and seriously considers a second foray into the chilling water of the river.  
  


+++

  
  
When dusk is falling, Pansy locks herself into her bathroom. She sheds her clothes and then spends some time scowling at the reflection of her naked body in the huge mirror.  
  
She has never been very fond of her body, but now, with the nervousness about what she's planning to do tonight already settling in, she finds it downright hideous. Someone once told her that most men's preferences in women were modelled after their mothers, and it's painfully obvious that she's a far cry from willowy, graceful Narcissa Malfoy with her porcelain complexion and her gossamer hair. Pansy has inherited her mother's dark hair and eyes and slightly olive skin, as well as her father's round face, stubby nose and stocky build; her mother keeps assuring her that she's grown into a fine-looking young woman, but she doesn't believe it for a second. She looks at her wide, round hips – _good for childbearing, dear, a very desirable feature in a prospective wife_ , her horrible grand-aunt once told her – and full breasts, comparing them with Narcissa Malfoy's slender figure and wondering for a moment how she could ever fool herself into thinking that Draco might be attracted to _that_.  
  
Then she remembers the blissful look on his face when she first allowed one of his hands to drift down to the bodice of her dress robes, that night when he kissed her after the Yule Ball, and some of her confidence returns.  
  
She spends almost two hours in the bathroom, using up huge amounts of hot water and casting about twenty different cosmetic charms, until she finally thinks she's done all she can. After some hesitation, she digs out a little box that she kept carefully hidden in her wardrobe under a stack of the white, sensible cotton knickers her mother always buys her. Millicent coaxed her into buying it on a Hogsmeade weekend some time ago; it contains a bra and knickers made of pink lace – not as daring as some of the stuff Millicent owns, but still the only pieces of Pansy's underwear that deserve the term "lingerie". She's never worn them before, and the lace feels stiff and scratchy against her skin, but she's not going to face what the night has in store for her in white cotton.  
  
One more thing to do.  
  
She has hidden the plain blue phial between her perfume bottles, safe from prying eyes. She got it from Millicent for her sixteenth birthday, and she thought it was meant as a joke, a bit of friendly teasing, but Millicent insisted that she keep it safe "because, Pansy dear, you never know when you might have need of it, trust me". Well, Millicent would know, Pansy thinks with a mixture of sarcasm and envy. Half-blood Millicent Bulstrode doesn't suffer from the restrictions placed upon pure-blood girls by their families. From an early age, the daughters of the old wizarding families are taught that their virginity is their most valuable bargaining chip in the intricate system of clan alliances and political matchmaking – not necessarily to be kept until the actual wedding, but only to be given away to the most promising candidate after careful consideration.  
  
Up until fourth year, Pansy had her parents' silent approval of her friendship with Draco Malfoy, and when he asked her to the Yule Ball, her father was openly pleased. When the Dark Lord made his reappearance, her parents grew more reserved towards her best friend; the Parkinsons have never been Death Eaters, even if they made sure to ally themselves with the most important of the Dark Lord's supporters at the height of his power. However, Pansy was sure then that her father would not agree to a match between his daughter and the son of Lucius Malfoy unless he was convinced that the Dark Lord would come out victorious of the new war that was brewing. When Malfoy senior went to Azkaban a year later, she knew this was the end of her hopes even before her father all but ordered her to distance herself from her childhood friend.  
  
She doesn't even want to know what he thinks about her feelings for Draco now, after the events surrounding Dumbledore's death. It doesn't matter anyway. She's made her choice, and she's going to stick to it, family politics be damned.  
  
Without further consideration, Pansy breaks the phial's seal and drinks down the contents.  
  


+++

  
  
When it's getting dark under the willow, Draco casts _Lumos_ and sticks his wand into the soft earth next to the tree. Then he leans back against the trunk, waiting.  
  
Pansy arrives as soon as it's dark outside, barefoot and wrapped in a robe of black silk that shines in the soft glow of his wand. It seems to Draco that he has never seen her look so beautiful, and for a moment, he can't remember a single word of the speech he has carefully rehearsed all afternoon. She kneels down next to him, and he inhales the familiar scent of her favourite perfume with a pang of yearning as she leans in and presses a gentle kiss on his lips.  
  
When he doesn't respond at all, she pulls back with a slightly hurt expression. "Draco, what's wrong?"  
  
Draco takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "Pansy – I can't do this."  
  
Her face is carefully blank now. "Why not?" When he fails to answer immediately, she adds coldly, "If you've decided you don't want me after all, you just have to tell me. I'm not in the habit of forcing myself onto people, you know."  
  
"That I don't _want_ you?" Draco reaches out and takes both her hands into his; she lets him, but her hands remain limp in his grasp. "Pansy, I don't mean to be crude, but if it still mattered what I want, I'd have you out of your clothes and on your back by now. But you know I can't do that, even less than I could a year ago. Then I told myself it was just a matter of time, but now – there's nothing left from all the things I thought I could offer you, and if your name is connected with mine in any way, I might drag you down with me into the mess I've made of my life." He gives her a pleading look; does she not understand how hard this is for him? It's not in his character to be selfless, but for once, he needs to put someone else's interests before his own. "I've ruined my future, Pansy," he adds matter-of-factly, "I don't want to ruin yours, too."  
  
Her dark eyes are suddenly flashing with anger. "And that's your decision to make, is it?"  
  
Draco frowns, bewildered. "What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Draco Malfoy, don't you _dare_ patronize me!" Her voice has lowered to a hiss that sounds downright dangerous. "I don't need you to gallantly protect me from myself. I know perfectly well what I'm doing and what the consequences will be, and I give a damn, is that clear?"  
  
"Your family..."  
  
"My family can go fuck themselves if they can't live with the choices I've made. I'm of age, there's nothing they can do to stop me. I've played the obedient pure-blood daughter as long as I thought it would get me what I wanted, but now that it won't, the deal is off, so don't give me that crap about family obligations."  
  
"I wasn't going to..." Draco pauses, belatedly registering what she just said. "As long as you thought it would get you what you wanted? What _was_ it you wanted, then?"  
  
Pansy's expression softens, although her eyes are still blazing. "You, of course, you utter moron."  
  
Draco has no idea what to reply to that; he can only stare at her, his mouth open and his mind racing.  
  
"And I'm going to have you, do you hear me?" Pansy's voice is vibrating with some emotion he can't identify. "Neither your father nor mine, neither the Dark Lord nor the fucking Order are going to take you from me because I won't let them. You _will_ survive this, and you will come back to me, do you understand? I give a damn whose side you eventually decide to be on – but I'll be there with you, and if you think you can get rid of me because of some noble gesture you need to make, you're sadly mistaken!"  
  
She gives Draco a shove that, catching him unawares, sends him sprawling onto the grass; within a split-second, she has her wand pointed at him. "And what was that about having me on my back, you chauvinistic arsehole? _Radicibus vincio_!"  
  
Something grips Draco from below, pinning him to the ground; when he turns his head, he sees dozens of thin roots shoot out of the ground and coil themselves tightly around his arms from wrist to shoulder. He tries to pull away, but the roots are holding him firmly in place. His wand is just inches away from his fingertips where he stuck it into the ground, but it might just as well be on the other side of the country because he can't move his arms at all. "Pansy!" he yelps indignantly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
Pansy, still on her knees, has crawled over to him; now she's sitting back on her haunches, looking him up and down as if he were on display in a shop window. "I think," she says, and there's something in her voice that sends a shiver down Draco's spine, "that I'm going to have my wicked way with you, Draco Malfoy."  
  


+++

  
  
Pansy is beginning to wonder if Millicent's contraceptive potion isn't having some side effects her friend conveniently forgot to tell her about. It must be either that or pure adrenalin, because she can't remember ever feeling so incredibly _alive_ , so perfectly free of doubts and inhibitions. She knows what she wants, and she's going to have it – it's as simple as that, and she wonders why it took her so long to figure it out.  
  
Draco has stopped struggling against the roots that are keeping his arms immobilized; he's looking at her with a mixture of anxiousness and anticipation, and for a moment she's sorely tempted to make him beg for the very thing he has tried to refuse a few minutes before - but she's been forced to wait for this far too long already.  
  
Pansy straddles Draco's hips, careful not to come in contact with the tell-tale bulge in the fabric of his robe. Placing her hands on either side of his head, she leans forward to kiss him. His mouth immediately opens under hers, and he's kissing back with everything he has, biting, licking an sucking; when she finally has to come up for air, his face is flushed crimson, and a sheen of sweat is glistening on his forehead. She pulls back and starts unbuttoning his robe, crawling down the length of his body to kiss every bit of pale skin she uncovers. Then the robe falls open over his chest, and she moves up again to suck at the hollow between his collarbones while her hands drift towards his nipples. When she grazes her fingernails over them, he throws back his head with a low moan and jerks up his hips, but Pansy immediately puts her hands on his hipbones and pushes him down again. "If you want me to continue, you'd better behave yourself."  
  
Draco stills immediately, his body taut as a bowstring, and with a grin, she goes back to his nipples, teasing one with her fingers while she closes her lips around the other. She runs her tongue over the hard little nub and hears him moan; it's a sound that sends a strange thrill through her, and she revels in a power she never knew she had before.  
  
Another few buttons come open, and she dips her tongue into his navel, eliciting another moan from him. Heat is pooling between her legs, and she desperately wants to grind down against him, but she is determined to make the most of this.  
  
Straightening up again, she takes a look at her handiwork. Draco is naked to the waist now, the flush spreading down to his collarbones, his chest and stomach covered in red marks where she has sucked at his skin. His breath is coming in shallow gasps, and when she meets his gaze, there's something in his eyes she has never seen before. She stays where she is, waiting for him to make the next move.  
  
"Pansy, please..."  
  
She leans forward, keeping her eyes on his. "If there is anything you want, you just have to tell me."  
  
"I want – " He swallows, his breath catching in his throat, "I want to see you."  
  
It takes her a moment to understand what he means, and for a heartbeat, her confidence wavers. But he keeps looking at her, and then he repeats, "Please..."  
  
She has never heard him plead with anyone before, and she finds herself giving in before she even has time to get nervous about the idea of stripping in front of him. Whenever she has imagined this scenario before, it was always his hands undressing her, but since she's decided to be in control, she's determined to go through with it. Slowly, she starts unbuttoning her robe, letting it slip off her shoulders and pool around her waist; then she quickly gets to her feet and steps out of it, flinging it aside.  
  
There's another moment of uncertainty as Draco's eyes rake over her body, and she feels herself blush furiously, but then he whispers, with something that's almost awe in his voice, "God, Pansy, you're beautiful..."  
  
Pansy basks in his hungry gaze; her uneasiness forgotten, she goes back to undressing him. He whimpers softly when she works on the buttons right over his groin, but he doesn't move again, but keeps perfectly still while she opens the rest of them. When she's done, Pansy hesitates for a moment before pushing the fabric away from his body. As she expected, he's wearing nothing underneath, and she can't help staring at the hard length of his cock, flushed dark red and standing out in stark contrast to the pale skin of his stomach and thighs. She remembers the way it felt against her palm that night, firm smoothness and pulsating warmth, and it seems strange to her that she has touched him, has stroked him to completion, without ever actually seeing him until now.  
  
"Pansy, you're _killing_ me." Draco's voice is raspy and breathless, and she's about to take pity and touch him when another idea occurs to her. She sits back, straddling his thighs, and reaches back to unhook her bra. She notices how his eyes widen when he realizes what she's about to do; the muscles of his thighs clench underneath her, and she wonders if he can feel the wetness seeping through her knickers. She lets the bra slip down her arms and leans forward, running her fingers over his thighs, his hips, and raking them through the soft blond hair on his lower belly. He's biting his lip now, but he's still looking at her, and she leans in further until her upper body is practically lying on top of him. The underside of his cock is rubbing against her chest, and she is still holding his gaze as she raises her hands to her breasts and squeezes, trapping his cock between them.  
  
" _Fuck_!" Draco throws back his head, and his whole body tenses as he starts thrusting up against her. This time, Pansy lets him; she presses her breasts together, increasing the friction. Draco is panting now, and his thrusts are quickly getting faster. She doesn't want him to come yet, so she straightens up again, causing him to groan in frustration. "Pansy, don't – "  
  
"Shhhht, it's getting better." He stops protesting when she nudges his knees apart to crawl between them; his legs fall open immediately, giving her room to settle between his thighs, and Pansy can't help grinning. "I bet you weren't expecting to spread _your_ legs for _me_ tonight, were you?"  
  
He's still breathing hard, but he's making a valiant attempt to grin back. "No, but I'm not complaining."  
  
Pansy's smile turns predatory. "Still coherent enough to talk, are you? That's about to change." She hopes the cocky remark will be enough to cover the fact that she is a bit nervous now. She feels familiar enough with the technical aspects (bless Millicent, fountain of knowledge and reliable source of educational magazines), but she has never _done_ this before, and she hopes she doesn't mess it up. Then again, she reckons, there probably is no such thing as a bad blow job when you're a boy of seventeen, and really, how difficult can it be? His cock is right in front of her now, so close that she can see the vein on the underside pulsing in the rhythm of Draco's heartbeat, and she lowers her head and runs her tongue over it.  
  
"God, Pansy, _yes_ – " Draco has closed his eyes; his face is twisted as if in pain and shining with sweat. Emboldened, Pansy swipes her tongue over the shaft again once, twice, before taking a deep breath and closing her lips around the head of his cock.  
  
He's making a strange, raw sound deep in his throat when she starts sucking gently. She's afraid she'll start gagging if she takes him in deeper, and she's grateful that he doesn't try to push into her mouth, but she rather enjoys the feeling of his cock against her lips, so she opens her mouth wider and presses her tongue against the head. It tastes salty and slightly bitter when she licks it; Draco keeps making that sound, low and needy, and again she's feeling a rush of power at the thought that it's her who makes him lose control like that. She wraps her hand around the base of his cock and starts stroking in rhythm with the movements of her tongue, gradually picking up speed until Draco suddenly gasps, "Pansy, _stop_!"  
  
She raises her head, and he's coming with a strangled groan; his back is arching off the ground as his cock twitches in her hand, splattering thick, white liquid over his stomach. Pansy watches in fascination; she's secretly glad he's warned her in time because she's not sure she could have handled getting _that_ into her mouth, but it's incredibly intimate to see him come like this, open and unashamed, to feel his body shudder and spasm and still again under her hands, and she tries to etch that moment into her memory to make sure she'll never forget it.  


+++

  
  
Draco can't remember ever coming this hard before. It should have felt awkward to come sprawled on the ground, struggling against the roots that hold him, while Pansy hovered over him and _watched_ , but he's positive that it was the most erotic experience of his life so far. He's still trying to get his breath back, and over the roaring of the blood in his ears, he almost misses the incantation Pansy is murmuring. Only when the sticky wetness on his stomach disappears, he notices the wand in her hand; she whispers another spell, and suddenly his arms are free.  
  
He stretches them gingerly and realizes they're shaking. Pansy is beside him, helping him out of the robe that still covers his arms; her cheeks are flushed, her lips wet and open, and when she stretches out next to him, her nipples are hard against his chest. Draco turns on his side to face her, and she kisses him greedily; he reaches out to stroke her cheek, but she takes his hand and guides it lower.  
  
Draco's heart skips a beat when his hand cups her firm, full breast. He's been fantasizing about getting to touch her there ever since he first noticed how her chest was beginning to fill out back in second year, and he can hardly believe that it's finally happening. Her skin is warm and smooth under his palm, and she sighs softly when he starts running his hand over it, caressing the soft flesh and grazing his fingertips over the hard little nub of her nipple.  
  
It isn't enough, and Pansy seems to think the same; she rolls over on her back, giving him room to touch her, to stroke and knead and then, bowing his head, to kiss and lick and nuzzle until his lips close around one of her nipples and start sucking. Pansy cries out at this, arching into his touch; her hands cover his, guiding him, and he lets her take the lead to show him how she wants him to touch her. He kisses the space between her breasts and feels her heart beat rapidly against this lips; he's getting hard again now, and he really needs to slow things down or he soon won't be able to stop himself from ripping her knickers and pounding into her.  
  
So he draws back a little, although he can't bring himself to take his hands away from her breasts, and looks up to smile at her. "You know, you're even more beautiful than I imagined."  
  
She raises an eyebrow; the cool expression stands in stark contrast to her flushed face. "Been picturing me, have you?"  
  
He gives her a dirty grin. "That's one way to put it."  
  
Pansy seems taken aback for a second; then she cuffs him over the head. "Draco Malfoy, you have been _wanking_ to the image of me?"  
  
"Don't tell me you ever doubted that?"  
  
"You know," she says thoughtfully, "there were times when I really wasn't sure what you saw in me. I mean, you'd make out with me one day, and then treat me like your sister the next..."  
  
Draco chuckles at this. "Great, now I've got incest to add to the long list of things I've been accused of in my life." He regrets the joke as soon as the words are out; it was dangerously close to a lot of problems he definitely doesn't want to think about right now.  
  
Pansy notices it too, and she's quick to change the topic. "Can I ask you something? Something personal?"  
  
Draco stares at her. "Pansy, you've just gone down on me, and my hands are on your naked breasts. How much more personal can two people possibly get?"  
  
He has hoped she would smile at this, but she remains serious. "You've done this before, haven't you?"  
  
The question dampens his mood even further, but he realizes he can't lie to her about this. "Yes."  
  
She doesn't seem surprised. "Someone I know?"  
  
Strangely, he doesn't feel annoyed about being interrogated like this; he reckons she has a right to know. "Definitely not. It wasn't - I mean, this is a horribly clichéd thing to say, but it _really_ didn't mean anything."  
  
She seems to understand what he's implying; after all, it's not an uncommon practice in pure-blood families that a father would arrange his teenage son's first experiences with the other sex.  
  
"Did you enjoy it?" She sounds surprisingly calm, as if she were asking out of mere curiosity.  
  
Draco shrugs. "Hell, I was fifteen, of course I enjoyed finally getting some. It was fun, but -" he hesitates, carefully weighing his words, "- that was all it was. Nothing like _this_."  
  
He's relieved to see her smile at this. She reaches out to stroke his hair, and there's a mischievous twinkle in her eyes when she says, "Well, I guess I should be glad that at least one of us knows what he's doing here."  
  
"I was under the impression you knew pretty well what you were doing just now."  
  
She doesn't seem to have heard his remark; she's worrying her lower lip with her teeth as if she were thinking about something. "Draco, can I ask something of you?"  
  
He nods, curious where this is going, and she continues, "Will you do something with me that - that you've never done with anyone before?"  
  
To his own surprise, Draco feels himself blush at this. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Is there anything that you've wanted to do, but didn't want to do with - _them_?"  
  
The question evokes images in his mind that go straight to his cock. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm down because his heart is suddenly in his throat, and nods. Pansy smiles and brushes a quick kiss on his lips; then she reaches for the waistband of her knickers and, lifting her hips, slips out of them in one swift movement. "Will you - ?"  
  
Draco doesn't need to be told twice. His hand is already on her belly, sliding lower to run his fingers through the dark curls between her legs, and lower still, until they're dipping into soft, wet heat. Pansy makes a sound almost like an impatient growl and gives his shoulders a firm push. He moves down until he's flat on his stomach between her legs; his hands are caressing the insides of her thighs, pushing them further apart. Pansy is reaching down, and he thinks for a moment that she's going to stroke herself, but her fingers are parting the folds of slick flesh, and her voice is husky when she says, "Here..."  
  
He lowers his head and, breathing in her smell, tentatively runs his tongue over the little nub between her fingers. The taste is a bit strange, but not bad, and he tries again, encouraged by her sharp intake of breath. She seems to like it even better when he closes his lips around it and sucks gently; he feels her hand on the back of his head, pulling him closer, and he keeps sucking and licking, enjoying the way the muscles in her thighs tighten under his hands. She whimpers softly when his hands start exploring; it turns into a moan when he finally slips a finger into her, stroking and teasing in rhythm with the movements of his lips and tongue.  
  
"More." It's just one word, breathless and throaty, but Draco doubts he has ever heard anything sexier than that. He pushes in a second finger, quickening his pace; her moans grow louder, and he feels muscles clench inside her in a wave of vibrations. Her hand is still on the back of his head, urging him to keep going; there's another wave, more intense than the first, and Draco realizes with a sense of awe that he has, for the very first time, made a girl come.  
  
She's relaxing under his hands now, breathing heavily; Draco raises his head to look at her, and she smiles at him, beckoning.  
  


+++

  
  
"Come here."  
  
Pansy's body is still tingling with the aftermath of orgasm, but she wants more; she wants _him_ , and she reaches for him, pulling him up towards her until he's on top of her. Draco stares down at her, his cheeks flushed and his hair falling into his eyes; he's hard again, and there's a fierce hunger in his expression that seems to set her nerve endings on fire. All her nervousness is gone; her heartbeat is pounding in her ears, and she feels wetness seeping down between her thighs as she runs her hands over his back down to his arse. His eyes widen, but he's still hesitating. "Pansy, are you – I mean, what if..."  
  
She shakes her head, touched that he'd even bother to ask such a question in his current position. "I took care of that. Now stop worrying and shag me before I get my wand and hex your balls off!"  
  
Draco smiles at this, his brilliant, boyish smile that has become so rare of lately; he slides down a bit, positioning himself between her legs, and then the head of his cock is nudging the moist, swollen flesh around her entrance. Pansy breathes out slowly, spreading her legs further and willing her muscles to relax as he pushes into her. It's a bit uncomfortable, but not really painful; she shifts her hips a little and tries to adjust to the strange new sensation while her mind is cautiously coming to terms with the fact that this is really happening, that it's really, finally _him_ inside her, not just her own fingers and her fantasy like so many times before.  
  
He stills, as if expecting a cue from her, but she remains motionless, savouring the moment, the feeling of his cock buried deep inside her, of his body weighing her down and his heartbeat hammering against her ribs. Draco is breathing hard; his hair is damp with sweat where she has buried her hands into it.  
  
He's looking at her, and there's a hesitant expression in his face that goes straight to her heart - he's waiting for her to tell him if this is ok. She wants to reassure him that it's wonderful, that she's been waiting so long for this, but she can't think of anything to say that doesn't sound terribly clichéd or stilted, so she pulls his head down and kisses him. He kisses back with a little sigh, and then his lips move over her jaw to her neck to suck gently at the pulse point. It's her turn to sigh now, and she feels him smile against her skin.  
  
He starts moving slowly, drawing back a little and carefully pressing forward again; Pansy can tell by the way his jaw is clenching that it's costing him a lot of effort not to go faster. She's struggling to move with him, to find a rhythm, but it's difficult without any leverage against the weight of his body, so she hooks her heels behind his calves and, tightening the muscles in her thighs, tries to push her hips up. Draco draws in a sharp breath, and she figures he likes what she's doing; she lets her hands slide from the back of his head to his neck and holds on tightly. When he pushes into her again, she clenches her legs around him, hips jerking up to meet his thrusts. A sharp spike of pain shoots through her, and she cries out, but so does Draco, and then he's propping himself up on his elbows, shifting his weight and thrusting faster, harder, and now it _does_ hurt, but it feels so much better at the same time that she doesn't care.  
  
Draco's breath comes in ragged gasps; his eyes are closed, his face contorted as if he were in pain, and she realizes he won't last much longer. She clenches her pelvic muscles around his cock, eliciting a moan from him that seems to vibrate deep within her; he's pushing into her once more, and then he's coming with a cry, his body tightening and shuddering against hers. Pansy holds on to him, her nails digging into the back of his neck, and doesn't let go until he collapses, boneless and panting, on top of her.  
  
He rolls off her immediately, and she feels a pang of loss as the warmth of his body is replaced by the coolness of the night air on her damp skin, but then he reaches for her, pulling her into his arms and burying his face in her hair. He's still breathing heavily, and it takes her a moment to make out the word he keeps whispering.  
  
It's her name.  
  
Suddenly there's a lump in her throat, and she can't stop the tears that are welling up in her eyes. Now that the glorious rush of excitement is fading, the reality of their surroundings is catching up with her; he is going to leave in the morning, and she can no longer pretend she doesn't know that this night might well be the only one they ever get to spend together. Draco is clearly thinking along the same lines; he has never been fond of excessive cuddling, but now he's clinging to her as if she might disappear any moment.  
  
Pansy takes a deep breath, pulling herself together. She turns in the circle of Draco's arms and, bowing her head, presses her lips on the inside of his elbow. She feels him go very still and knows he understands the significance of the gesture as she opens her mouth and starts sucking hard. When she draws back, there's a bright red hickey blossoming where the Dark Mark would have been, and Pansy kisses it again, whispering "Mine, mine, mine" against his skin.  
  
He's looking at her with wide eyes, and she reaches up to smooth a stray wisp of sweat-dampened hair out of his face. His expression relaxes under her touch; he leans in to kiss her on the forehead, and it feels more like a blessing than a caress to her. "Pansy, I –"  
  
"Shhhhh," she interrupts him, "there's no need to talk tonight. Sleep now; I'll still be here when you wake up."  
  
She reaches for her wand and casts a quick _Scourgify_ before summoning the blanket. When she pulls it over the two of them, Draco's eyes have already closed. He nestles his head in the crook of her shoulder and, with a sigh against the skin of her neck, drifts off to sleep.  
  
Pansy watches him for a moment. The tension in his features is softening now that he's asleep; she can still see the lines between his eyebrows and in the corners of this mouth, but they don't stand out as sharply as they did before. He looks very young all of a sudden, and she feels tears well up in her eyes for the second time, but she blinks them away. Instead, she starts waving her wand over his body in a complicated pattern, weaving the protection charm her mother taught her when she was a little girl. There's no written incantation; the charm only works through the hopes and wishes of the one who casts it, and Pansy concentrates with all her might as she lets her magic flow through the words that are forming in her mind.  
  
_Be safe from everything that threatens you. Stay ahead of the darkness he's sending after you. Neither fear nor grief shall overwhelm you, neither friend betray you nor foe overcome you, nor your loved ones abandon you._  
  
She pauses briefly, hesitating – but the words are there, unbidden and honest, and Pansy continues:  
  
_Let my spells ward you, my charms guide you, my curses keep danger away from you, my love watch over you everywhere you go until it brings you safely back to me._  
  
It's not much, and she knows only too well that it won't protect Draco from Voldemort's wrath if the worst should happen, but it's ancient magic, drawing its power from the emotions of the caster, and it's the best she can do to keep him from harm.  
  
She doesn't extinguish the soft glow of Draco's wand when she's finished; she doesn't want the darkness to come near him tonight. Putting aside her own wand, she stretches out beside Draco and snuggles up to him as closely as possible.  
  
The sound of his even breathing has almost lulled her into sleep when it occurs to her that Snape, who knows where to look for Draco and will hardly have trouble overcoming a child's wards, might very well see them like this if he should return early in the morning. Strangely, the idea doesn't bother her; let him find out how things are.  
  
She's made her decision, and right now, she doesn't care who knows it. Pansy closes her eyes, listens to Draco's heartbeat and promises him silently that this night will be no end, but a beginning.  
  
  
  
  
  
FIN


End file.
